A Factor of Age
by Silberias
Summary: Last week Sakura told him she liked him, & then promptly left on a mission. Kakashi isn't against this idea, even if others will say he returns her feelings due to him being a man of a certain age. He doesn't want to feel young, he wants to feel wanted.


Because I felt like writing a bit of Shikamaru. I rarely write his character, so it was nice to do it here for a little bit. But this is ultimately KakaSaku because I'm that person who can't write anything else it feels like. This is also dedicated to **jonayells** in response to their lovely, lovely note they sent my way a few days ago.

There is also a short Gai-POV KakaSaku oneshot coming down the pipeline soon, so bear with me everyone! As for _Samurai_, it should be updated in the next day or so. I'm about 2/3rds done with it now. ...Gargh, I also need to update the blog like I said I would! Oh noes!...Anyway...

Enjoy!

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><p>The air was freezing—it was finally winter in Konoha—as Kakashi turned in his mission report and promptly turned on his heel to leave the building.<p>

"Oi, Kakashi-sensei," Shikamaru's voice carried over his shoulders and he resisted hunching them at the sound. His dead friend's student was now on his level, a respected Jounin who should be calling him senpai rather than sensei. Kakashi wished he had been faster, he'd only barely made it out of the building before the Nara boy caught up with him.

He waited for the younger man to catch up to him, waited as he swore under his breath looking for a cigarette, and waited while he lit up, shielding the fragile flame of the match with both hands. Kakashi waited, because that's what he had done his entire life it seemed like.

"You know Sakura, she's got a huge crush on you—I know you know, she fucking told you last week before she left on that mission with Naruto. Right in front of everyone." Well, it had been said now.

"Yes," the answer was dragged out of Kakashi as the acrid smoke from Shikamaru's cigarette burned in his nose.

"So you don't have to return her feelings or whatever, but don't fucking hurt her like That Bastard." That Bastard was how Uchiha Sasuke was typically referred to by the eight graduation-mates he'd left behind six years ago. The term wasn't used in the company of Team Seven often, but it wasn't taboo. The name Uchiha Sasuke was what was taboo.

The laugh which came out of Kakashi wasn't even under the umbrella of _wry_ laughter. It was a sharp sound, like the cold air of the day.

"Returning feelings, Shikamaru, is _not_ the problem." He didn't look over at the younger man, knowing that his comment had set gears turning in that brilliant head. He didn't need to think on them long, however.

"Well whatever the problem _is_, Kakashi-sensei, figure shit out before she gets back or the rest of us are going to have to put up with it—Ino is threatening things better not spoken of, if you catch my drift. You've got til Thursday before we _all_ catch hell." Today was Tuesday.

Kakashi went home to his tiny apartment. There was a tiny kitchen and a tiny bathroom, and then a bedroom just a bit bigger than tiny. There were so few belongings in the place that he would need only a few boxes to move if he ever decided to. Instead of making himself tea to warm himself and calm his nerves—his original plan before Shikamaru had caught him—Kakashi chose to lay down on his bed.

Normally he lay in it as was socially directed, head near the wall, on his back, and very asleep. Today he sprawled on it diagonally, his head almost hanging off it at a _very_ undignified angle. Dignity didn't exactly matter in his life anymore, it seemed.

It would be easier to consider _all_ the possibilities, including the heartbreaking ones, if Sakura weren't as nice as she was. She was _perfect_. And not in that way that he didn't see her flaws or rationalized them. Kakashi was on about the fact that everything he wanted from a woman, Sakura _had_—in abundance, too.

"You're just old, Kakashi, and she's this young thing…" he tasted the line out loud, knowing it would be his soon constant companion if he chose to pursue anything with her.

"Beautiful, yes, but really at your age," he tried again.

It was hard.

He'd given everything to the village, it was hard not to obey it's whims even in his personal life. But on this he wasn't going to budge. He had given _everything_, he _must_ deserve something in return—even just a few weeks of happiness would be welcome, let alone months or years or the rest of his life.

Yes, he was thirty three and she was nineteen. But they'd each killed a man at around the same age, for her it was just fresher. And Shikamaru had told him something he already knew—Sakura would kill him if he told her to go away, mostly because she knew that he had vague _feelings_ for her that were _vaguely_ romantic and gooey in the most terribly cliché way.

He decided to just stare at the ceiling, looking for answers—despite knowing them all anyway.

"See underneath the underneath…" he said aloud to the growing twilight of his room.

He saw enough to know that underneath her tough exterior Sakura was just as terrified of this as he was, and that underneath that was a steely resolve. Just because her confession had run roughshod over him didn't mean he hadn't seen the resolve, terror, and toughness of it.

"Kakashi-sensei, I'm not going to call you sensei anymore. I'm going to call you Kakashi, because I like you and I think we should be together. You can tell me what you think about that when I get home."

She had just _said_ it, in front of at least a dozen people. Kakashi had been rooted to the spot, unable to think. How she had possibly figured him out enough to see his attraction towards her he'd never know.

He decided that he'd try for her, and started practicing his rebuttals towards whatever doubters would arise in the coming weeks and months. It likely did nothing to enhance his reputation of being fairly sane despite his long career and past—shinobi rarely were in the profession for more than twenty years, and here he was at twenty eight—but he said each response aloud.

It was necessary, he knew. Voicing his true opinions was rarely done, as they were visceral and often cutting. But airing his defenses to his invisible audience was soothing and passed the time. Sakura would likely come home a day early, so he used his time wisely.

"Kakashi?" she had said she'd never call him sensei ever again, but it was still jarring to hear her only voice his name as though he belonged to her. Kakashi had dozed off sometime in the early morning, it was past midday now if the sun was correctly placed in the sky—it usually was, so he didn't question it.

"You're back early." He didn't turn to look at where her voice came from.

"Yeah," the bed dipped near his head, and he glanced up at her face. He probably looked a bit of a mess, but he didn't care—she knew he was a mess, inside and out…and if she didn't it was high time she found out. She was silent, but her hand found his hair and threaded slender fingers through the silvery locks.

"I like your idea, Sakura, from last time we talked," he said, realizing that she was waiting for him to speak.

"I'm glad."

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><p>Review?<p> 


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